


Love So Warm (Make a Heart Run Wild)

by supras



Category: One Direction (Band), The Voice (Ireland) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fireman Bressie, Just Add Kittens, M/M, Nessie Summer Fanwork Fest, Veterinarian Niall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-17 13:46:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11276520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supras/pseuds/supras
Summary: In which Bressie is a fireman who rescues a kitten from a burning barn and Niall is the village vet.





	Love So Warm (Make a Heart Run Wild)

**Author's Note:**

> Original prompt: Any fanwork: firefighter Bressie who saved a kitty and has to take it to the local shelter where Niall works/is a volunteer/is a vet at
> 
> You guys, this has been a trip. I've rewritten it like six times, and only last night did I realise I'd interpreted the prompt slightly wrong - I've not Niall as a vet at an animal hospital, not a shelter - *facepalm* TOO LATE. 
> 
> Anyway. Big thanks to the long-suffering Emma for beta-ing all six drafts and listening to me whine about not knowing which direction to go. You're the best. Any mistakes are therefore mine. 
> 
> (side note - a kitten who was raised in a barn would normally not be this chill with humans but fuck reality this was cute)
> 
> Title from I Will Follow You by RIVVRS

He’s been doing this for nine years, but Bressie will never be used to that first onslaught of overwhelming heat that comes with entering a burning building. 

It’s a barn today, an old worn thing that had gone up in flames when embers from a nearby controlled burn of a field had carried over on the wind. The farm’s owner, an old man called Craig, had told the dispatcher there were animals inside - several cats and kittens, and a mare. 

Three of Bressie’s colleagues have gotten the hoses up and running, dousing the barn from all sides to bring the fire down enough for him to get inside. There’s a terrified whinny when he breaks the door down, old, wet wood going easily from the hinges. Smoke billows out and he steps in, feeling heat through his layers of protective gear. It’s hard to see through the smoke, but the horse whinnies again from the stall at the edge of the barn. There’s hay smoldering at her feet and Bressie can see the blisters above her hooves as she stamps around. The whites of her eyes show when she throws her head up, eyes rolling back in terror. 

He rushes forward the best he can, side stepping a burning beam that’s fallen and listening for any sounds that would indicate the roof will cave in. The horse looks like she would run from him if she wasn’t afraid of backing into the fire behind her, and he holds up his hands as a brief show of peace before unlatching the stall door. He expects her to shoot out of the stall when the door swings open but she doesn’t. Instead she looks towards the barn door apprehensively, huffing on the smoke he understands she can’t see through. 

“Easy there, girl,” Bressie soothes and reaches up to pat her neck. He’s got to get her out of her quickly, but he doesn’t want to scare her anymore than she already is. 

He quickly slides his hand up to grip the side of her halter resting against her cheek, and then he’s leading her forward through the smoke. It’s only a dirt floor between the stall and the door, but another beam comes down behind them. The mare panics and shoots forward, nearly taking his arm off as she aims for the door. He may be big, but she’s bigger, 590 kilos being propelled by fear. 

He lets go of her halter but follows her at a run to make sure she makes it to the door - She does, cantering away towards the farmhouse. Her grizzled old man of an owner goes after her to collect her and Bressie has more pressing issues. 

He’s been told there should be a mother cat and four kittens in the barn - Craig saw them there this morning, but for all he knows they could have left the barn already either before or during the fire. Bressie goes in anyway, just to check. 

The smoke is thicker and darker now that most of the fire is out. It rises from the charred wood, damp from the fire hoses and clouds his vision. He hits the on switch on his headlamp and swings his head around to cast the beam around the floor. It cuts through the smoke just enough for him to see piles of straw, a few blankets where Craig said the cats liked to sleep. The corner of the blanket is charred and the nest looks empty on first glance. He steps toward it to double check and that’s when the small grey bundle catches his eye. 

It’s a single kitten mostly tucked under the blanket, eyes shut and unmoving. 

Bressie pulls the blanket back and scoops it up to tuck it to his chest. It’s a tiny thing, small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. He looks around but there are no signs of any other cats so he turns and exits the barn for what he hopes is the final time. 

Once outside and far enough away from the barn, Bressie shucks his helmet and cradles the kitten in the crook of one arm as he pulls one glove off. He shifts it to his other arm to remove the second glove, and the kitten doesn’t move.

Bressie presses two fingers to its chest tiny chest and is relieved to feel a heartbeat under the fur. 

“One kitten, barely breathing,” he relays with a shout to his colleagues and Craig who’s calmed the mare and is holding onto her. 

The fire is out now, the barn in ruins and unsalvageable. Two of his men are still pouring water on it, the other two next to their engine. Eoghan hands him a child’s oxygen mask, air already flowing through it. 

Bressie takes it and holds it over the kitten’s head. It’s so small its face is swallowed by the mask, its nose pressed into where the oxygen is coming from. 

“C’mon little one,” Bressie murmurs and sits down on the grass, careful not to jostle the kitten. He stretches it in his hand, tilting its tiny head to open its airway. 

“Doesn’t look like it’s going to make it, mate,” Eoghan says. 

Bressie fixes him with a withering glare. 

“Didn't ask you, did I?” 

He strokes down the kitten’s side with one finger, gently, marvelling when the fur goes from grey to orange. The poor thing is so covered in soot it’s not even its proper colour. 

“That’s the runt,” Craig tells him gruffly  from over his shoulder. He hadn’t even heard him come over with the horse who is now standing beside him even though he’s no longer holding onto her. “She’s the smallest by a lot. The mum must have gotten the other kittens out and left her. Good riddance.” 

Bressie’s heart twinges but he says nothing. He understands how nature works, but she’s such a wee thing he can’t bear the thought of her being abandoned by her mother. He doesn’t voice it out loud, knowing the rest of his crew would take the piss again - that’s him, big Bres who’s hard on the outside, but really made of marshmallow. 

The kitten suddenly draws in a great shuddering breath in his hands. She gulps for air and he continues to pet her back to help her breathe. 

“Well alright then,” Eoghan chuckles and this time Bressie grins at him. 

The kitten comes to and Bressie bundles her up in a towel from the engine, keeping the oxygen mask over her. She’s coughing and in certain need of medical care. The farmer doesn’t seem to care about her so Bressie makes the executive decision to take her with them. He leaves her on the passenger seat of the engine, wrapped snuggly in the towel, and helps the others collect the hoses and other gear. The police have arrived and Eoghan is staying behind to walk through the ruined barn for the report, but the rest of them have to get back to the station should they be needed again. 

“Swing by the vet on the way back,” Bressie instructs Darragh as he climbs into the engine and settles himself in the seat with the kitten in his arms again. 

Darragh gives him a pointed look but Bressie ignores it. Marshmallow heart and all that, innit. 

The one vet in the village is housed in an old converted cottage not far from the main area of town. A large, plain building stands next to it to house the surgery and space for large animals, but Bressie’s only even been inside the cottage. It’s there he enters now with the kitten tucked into one elbow. It’s cool in the building despite the summer heat outside and he takes a deep breath as the bell on the door jingles when it closes behind him. 

Harry looks up from the old computer where’s he sat at the reception desk, frowning at the screen. He brightens when he sees him.

“Bressie! What can I do for you?” 

He carefully lifts his arm so he can see the kitten nestled there. She’s awake now, red-rimmed green eyes still droopy as she looks around. 

“Rescued a kitten,” he says plainly. “Eight weeks old, but a runt. She’s inhaled a lot of smoke.” 

Harry is around the desk in a heartbeat taking the kitten from him. 

“C’mon back then,” he says and leads him through to one of the tiny exam rooms. Bressie folds his arms across his chest, unsure what to do with himself now that they’re empty, and tucks himself into the corner. 

“I gave her oxygen, but she’s still coughing,” he explains. He watches as Harry gently sets the kitten down on the stainless steel exam table, careful to keep her tucked in her blanket. The kitten coughs pitifully and Harry strokes a hand over her head, lightly scratching at her ears. 

“She sounds awful,” he comments quietly and begins to unwrap the kitten. 

It must be a testament to how cruddy the little cat feels, Bressie notes, because she doesn’t fight to get away or investigate the table once she’s free. She simply lays on her side, breath rattling as Harry examines her. 

“Poor thing,” Harry coos and makes a note on a chart he’s procured off the counter. “Dr. Horan isn’t back yet, from the same fire I assume.” 

“Dr. Horan?” Bressie asks, brow furrowing. “Where’s Dr. Murphy?” 

Harry snorts and rolls his eyes. 

“I know you live under a rock, Bres, but Dr. Murphy retired a few weeks ago. I’ll be back with oxygen in a second.”

He leaves from the door they entered through, leaving Bressie to stew in his confusion. He doesn’t  _ really _ live under a rock and the village is so small he’d have surely heard of the old vet’s pending retirement. 

Then again, he has had a tough month since Ros packed up and left him to go to Dublin. 

But he’s been trying not to dwell on that. 

Bressie frowns to himself and steps forward to gently pet the kitten and wonder who this new Dr. Horan is. 

“You’ll be alright, love,” he murmurs to her. More soot comes off on his hand and he tuts. She’ll need a bath at some point. 

There’s a rolling stool in the room and he pulls it around close to him to sit next to the exam table. Harry returns long enough to set up the kitten on oxygen, this time with a size appropriate mask. He disappears again, off to another part of the animal hospital. 

It must be forty-five minutes later when there’s a knock on the door before it opens and an unfamiliar man comes in with Harry trailing behind him. 

“You must be Mr. Breslin,” he says warmly whilst holding his hand out to Bressie to shake.

“Just Bressie is fine,” Bressie breathes because holy bleeding fuck Dr. Murphy’s replacement is attractive. The old vet had been just that - old - the only vet Bressie had ever known here in Kinsale the time he’s lived here. But the man in front of him is young, probably fresh out of university and just as fresh-faced. He’s all bottle blonde hair and sparkling blue eyes behind his glasses, warmth radiating from him. 

“You can call me Niall then.” 

Dr. Horan’s smile lights up his whole face for a moment before he turns his attention to the kitten. Bressie watches in fascination as the vet places his stethoscope in his ears and presses the resonator to the kitten’s chest. The room is silent for a long minute as Niall listens to her breath sounds. 

“Sounds like there’s swelling, definitely,” he finally states and removes the stethoscope from his ears. He hangs it around his neck and picks up a light to check the kitten’s throat. “And we’ve got some soot, both to be expected with smoke inhalation.” He turns to Bressie then. “Why didn’t you wait for me at the scene? I was called out to treat the mare.” 

Bressie scowls. 

“Craig didn’t seem to care since she was the runt and all. I wanted her out of there.” 

Niall smiles softly at him and it suddenly hits Bressie. Oh god,  _ what has he done _ . He’s not responsible for a cat. He  _ can’t _ be responsible for a cat, when he spends most of his time at the firestation or out doing typical firefighter things like, fighting fires and saving ponies from wells. What’s she supposed to do on her own? She’s so  _ small _ . 

“I’d like to keep her overnight,” Niall tells him, “to keep an eye on her, make sure she doesn’t keep struggling to breathe.” 

Bressie nods instantly. He’d agree to anything Niall wanted, really. He’s known him five minutes and he’s already fucked, buggering hell. 

“Good, let’s get her settled then.” 

Bressie’s heart clenches in his chest - they’re going to take her  _ away _ , if only for a night. A second ago he was freaking out because he couldn’t be responsible for a cat, and now he doesn’t want to be separated from her at all. Get your shit together, Breslin. 

Niall takes in the way Bressie’s got his lower lip worried between his teeth and the set of his shoulders. “You can come back with us if you like and make sure she’s okay,” he offers.

Bressie’s heart unclenches in his chest and Niall scoops up the kitten. 

“Does she have a name?” Niall asks. 

He’s leading Bressie out of the exam room and down a narrow hallway to the back of the office where Bressie’s never been. He turns a doorknob with one hand and uses his hip to push the door open, pressing against it to allow Bressie past him and into a medical area. Metal kennels line one wall, the opposite holding cabinets and a sink. A fridge sits in the corner. 

“Uh, she doesn’t have one. Craig didn’t say.”

“Well that just won’t do.” 

The kennels are all empty right now, and Niall opens one that’s just under his eye level. 

“Here, can you hold her?” he asks. He turns to Bressie who offers up his arms and sets the kitten into them. 

Niall bustles around collecting a few blankets and a fluffy bed to make a nest in the front of the kennel he’s opened. 

“Every animal need a name, even the most wee ones,” he says, now filling a litter pan. 

Bressie looks down at the kitten he’s holding. She does need a name. 

“I should get to know her first,” he decides aloud. He knows nothing of her personality yet, how can he name her?

“I understand.” 

Niall’s at the sink now, running warm water and a bit of soap into it. He gestures to Bressie to bring the kitten over. He takes her with gentle but expert hands, holding her to his shirt as he dips a flannel in the water and wrings it out with his other hand. 

“Don’t want her to go into shock by giving her a proper bath,” he answers Bressie’s unasked question. “She’s still too frail for that. This will get most of the soot off of her before she’s able to be fully bathed.” 

Bressie nods and watches as the damp flannel washes the soot away. The kitten is a calico with a snip of white on her nose, a white chest, and four white paws. The very tip of her tail turns out to be white as well - she’s adorable. Bressie wants very much to put her in the pocket of his shirt and let her sleep there against his chest. 

“So you’re a firefighter, huh?” Niall asks, looking up from cleaning the cat. 

Bressie can only nod again, fixated on the kitten. 

“How long have you been a firefighter?” 

“Nine years. Lived here seven. They needed people and the village offered a bonus for anyone who would come.” 

Niall hums. 

“T’was the same for me. Just finished school meself, was looking for a position, and Dr. Murphy offered the whole practice and a bonus for his successor. Was a bit tough to leave me family, but it seems like a nice place so far.” 

“It’s nice. Small but nice,” Bressie agrees. 

Niall towels off the kitten and hands her back to Bressie wrapped in a clean blanket. Bressie instantly cuddles the bundle to his chest and the kitten settles into the warmth. 

“If she’s eight weeks, her mum had probably started weaning her, but a bottle would be best with the inflammation in her esophagus,” Niall explains and opens the refrigerator. He takes out a carton of formula and then a small bottle out of a cabinet. Bressie watches attentively as he fills the bottle and turns the tap on, holding the bottle under the stream to warm it with the hot water. 

“D’you want to feed her?” 

“Course.” 

Niall shows him how to hold the kitten in his hand - on her front with her head cradled between his fingers. 

“Not on her back?” 

“Nope,” Niall responds. He hands Bressie the bottle, watching him pop the nipple into the kitten’s mouth. She takes it easily, sucking down the formula. “Kittens aren’t like human babies. Their gastronomic system is different and they feed on their stomachs. They can choke otherwise.”

He pets over the kitten’s back as she eats, making sure she’s swallowing correctly. The bottle is empty in a few quiet minutes and then Niall is taking her back and placing her in the bed he’s made in the kennel. 

“Would you like a cuppa before you go?” he asks as Bressie pats the kitten one last time. 

Bressie would like that very much, but he’s got to get back to the station. They’re a man down without him, and whilst they probably won’t have any more fires for the rest of the day, it’s his turn to make dinner for everyone on duty. He doesn’t want to leave the kitten either. 

He says as much and Niall nods. 

“Gimme your phone then, so I can put me number in,” Niall instructs and holds his hand out. “You can text me anytime to check on her, or just...because. Maybe to actually get that cuppa?” 

He flushes, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly as Bressie scrambles to get his mobile out of the pocket of his trousers to hand to him. Bressie hopes it was as suggestive as it sounded, because god yes. 

“That would be nice,” he says instead with a grin and Niall flushes an even deeper pink. 

 

***

 

When Niall sees Bressie out, he locks the door behind him. It’s past their closing time of five pm, and Harry is finishing up the day’s paperwork at the reception desk. 

Harry smirks at him when he turns around and leans against the door with a sigh. Was he an idiot to have given Bressie his number like that? He was just so  _ fit _ and Niall was so new in town. He didn’t even know if he was interested in men and though Bressie’s reaction had been positive, maybe he thought it was as  _ mates _ . Niall was okay with being his mate, but really he’d like to climb him like a tree. 

“Got a thing for the fit fireman, eh, Dr. H?” 

Niall flips him off and goes to the back room. The kitten is asleep in the kennel where he’d left her. Her breathing is laboured but she’s breathing, and that’s a good sign. There’s a small flat above the office that he can stay the night in so he can check on her every few hours, but there’s also a  camping cot in one of the storage closets. He drags it out along with a set of bed linens out of a cupboard so they’re ready for when he goes to bed. 

He goes through the back entrance where his bike is waiting and takes off towards home for a shower and supper. It’s a ten minute ride into the village where he rents a flat just off of the main street. The village is busy when he parks his bike next to his door, tourists still out and about on a nice summer evening. He slips inside and up the stairs into his flat. The shades are all drawn to keep the heat out and he leaves them that way as he kicks off his shoes and heads to the bathroom. His shower is a cool one, the bathroom too stifling for anything warmer than lukewarm. His dinner is cold too - leftover chicken on a bed of greens with various vegetables to make it a salad. He packs it into a container and puts it in his rucksack with a change of clothes and his bag of toiletries. Then he’s back to the office.

The kitten is still asleep when he returns and Harry takes his leave, so he settles into his chair with his salad and his iPad to watch Netflix as he eats. 

Niall is shoveling a forkful of lettuce into his mouth when his phone dings from it’s place on the desk. 

There’s a text from an unknown number, and he slides it open. 

_ Hey mate, it’s Bressie! Thanks for your help with the kitten! How’s she doing?  _

He hadn’t expected a text so  _ soon _ though he had told Bressie to text him anytime. He wonders what he’s doing back at the firehouse - if he’s still cooking or eating or whatever. 

_ just doing me job :) she’s sleeping at the mo. breath sounds still laboured, but I’m watching her.  _

Immediately after sending the message back, Niall groans and drops his head into his hand. He’d responded so fast, what’s Bressie going to think? That he has no life other than hanging about the animal hospital with his phone in his hand. Which is mostly true, but still. 

But Bressie texts him back just as fast. 

_ Glad to hear it! Give her a pet for me, yeh? _

Niall will give the kitten all the pets. All of them, if that makes Bressie happy. 

He finds himself checking on her more often than he would another animal in her condition. She takes a bottle twice more before he turns in for the night, settling in on the cot under an old quilt and falling asleep to the sound of her breathing

 

\---

 

Niall wakes with the sound of the alarm on his phone blaring through the silence at half gone six. It’s the third alarm he’s woken up to during the night as he’d gotten up to check on and feed the kitten. She was fine each time, snuggling into his chest after the last bottle and he’d almost dozed off with her there instead of placing her back in her bed. She’s still asleep when he pulls himself off the cot and over to her kennel, and her breathing sounds more even and less raspy. 

Niall puts the cot and bedding away, then changes into clean clothes. He fills and puts the kettle on and by the time he’s back the kitten has heard him and is awake. She’s on her feet, nose poking through the bars of the kennel. When she sees him she lets out a tiny meow and lifts her paw to raise herself up. 

“Just a second, wee one,” he chuckles and fixes her some gruel of formula and dry cat food. Now that the inflammation has gone down she’ll do fine on soft food before moving to kibble over the next week or so. She was probably already eating kibble, but he doesn’t want to take any chances.

When Niall opens the kennel door the kitten tries to launch herself at him. Overnight she’s gotten more comfortable with him and associates him food, which he now places in the bottom of the kennel. He sticks his finger in it and holds it to her mouth. She sniffs it once, twice, then tentatively licks. Deciding she likes it she licks it all off his finger and Niall directs her to the bowl when she meows for more. 

“Good girl,” he coos when she shoves her face into the food and begins eating happily. 

He take his mobile from the pocket of his jeans and snaps a photo of her eating to send to Bressie. 

_ lil gal eatin the gruel this am! she’s fine to go home anytime you want to come get her! _

Niall waits until the kitten has finished eating and takes the bowl to the sink, not wanting to leave her unattended whilst she ate. He pokes a finger into the kennel to let her nibble and goes about his morning work. The first appointment is at eight and Harry and Ailbhe will be arriving any time for the busy morning ahead. Between the three of them they set up the charts for the day and everything is set by the time he unlocks the front door to let Mrs. Callahan in with her sheltie. Whilst Ailbhe gets them set up in the exam room and he goes to fetch his white coat, he sneaks a peek at his mobile. 

_ Excellent!  _ Bressie has texted back  _ Swing by around 10, yeh?  _

_ sure, come round whenever.  _

If Niall spends the morning chewing his nails down to the quicks, anxiously awaiting Bressie’s arrival, so be it. 

 

\---

 

Niall is with a patient when Bressie arrives, a snottly little Pomeranian who’s visiting the village with his owners for the summer but has come down with a cold. The dog nearly takes his fingers off when he tries to take his temperature and the owners just shrug at him. City dogs, he swears. 

He sends them off to Ailbhe to pay their invoice, and Harry intercepts him in the hall when he starts to go check on the kitten again. 

“You have a gentleman caller,” he says with a gleeful grin. “He’s waiting in the lobby.” 

Niall backtracks out to the lobby where the Pomeranian’s owners are still there and Bressie is sitting on one of the chairs with his hands around two takeaway cups. 

Bressie stands when he sees him, smile spreading warm and slow across his face. 

“Brought you a tea,” he says and offers one of the cups. 

“Thought I was supposed to do  _ you _ a cuppa,” Niall jokes and Bressie looks sheepish. 

“Couldn’t wait?”

Niall smiles at him over the rim of the cup, pleased at the hot Irish breakfast in it and the look Bressie is giving him. 

“C’mon then, let’s take you to see your gal.”

Bressie follows him back and the kitten is snoozing again, crowded up against the bars of the kennel’s door on her back. 

Bressie gently pokes at her fluffy belly with his finger and the kitten wakes. Just as she greeted Niall this morning, she’s on her feet in an instant, meowing and poking her nose out. 

“She seems to be doing well,” Bressie comments happily and lets her sniff his finger. 

“Surprisingly well actually.” 

Niall opens the kennel door and takes her out to hand her off to Bressie. The kitten climbs up Bressie’s arm to perch on his shoulder and nuzzle his hair. 

Niall thinks he might die. 

Bressie is beaming when he reaches up to cup a large hand over the kitten and pet her. 

“I think I’m going to call her Gwyn. Means blessed and all that.” 

Niall hums and bops the kitten on the nose with a gentle finger. 

“I think that’s a great name. What d’you think, Gwynnie?” 

Gwyn meows. 

Niall cackles and picks her up, holding her to his chest to kiss the top of her head. 

“Silly gal. She needs a proper bath. Wanna help?” 

Bressie nods eagerly and Niall hands Gwyn back to him to run warm water in the sink. He turns the tap off when it’s only a few centimetres full, just enough to get the kitten’s feet wet. 

Niall directs Bressie to place Gwyn in the sink and he does so ever so gently, lowering her down until her toes touch. When she doesn’t squirm away, he sets her down fully so she’s standing in the bath. 

Gwyn noses at the water and sticks out a tentative tongue. 

“No, don’t drink it,” Bressie scolds and lifts her chin whilst Niall fetches a towel. “You’ll get sick.”

Gwyn blinks at him. 

Niall is careful with the kitten in the bath, rubbing soap into her fur to get the soot out. She doesn’t like it much, meowing pitifully and trying to escape but she’s so tiny he can keep her in place easily. 

“It’s okay wee one,” he coos and rinses the last of the soap from her fur. Gwyn’s proper clean now, the pattern of her coat clear of soot and striking. 

Bressie swoops in with a towel to cuddle Gwyn into and Niall pulls the stopper from the sink, rinsing the bubbles down the drain. It only takes a minute to get the excess water from her fur until it’s damp and fluffy. 

“You can go ahead and set her on the floor,” Niall says when Bressie unwraps her from the towel. “I need to show you how to mix her food.” 

Bressie does as instructed, stooping down and setting Gwyn onto the tile. She scampers off immediately, going to explore the corner of the room. 

Niall walks through the steps of mixing the gruel, Bressie taking notes on his phone, before getting a carton of formula and a little bag of kibble for him to take when Bressie sheepishly admits he hasn’t gotten any supplies yet. 

“I’ll go to the supply store right when we leave,” Bressie promises as he goes to collect Gwyn and settle her into the box Niall has provided to transport her in. It isn’t a carrier but the sides are tall enough for her not to escape so it will do in Bressie’s car. She meows, sitting in the bottom of it and looking displeased. 

“How much do I owe you?” Bressie asks when he’s got the box safe in his arms, following Niall out of the back room towards the lobby of the animal hospital. 

Niall waves a dismissive hand. 

“You literally saved her from a fire. No charge.” 

It isn’t like there had been a lot of medications or surgery involved - just some food and a little oxygen, which he’ll happily pay out of his own pocket if it comes down to it. 

Bressie frowns, lines deepening around his mouth. 

“But you helped. Even if it’s just to thank you-”

“Take me to dinner,” Niall says in a rush before he can stop himself. “Then we can call it even.” 

He immediately regrets it because what if he read this wrong? Bressie texted him quickly, but it was about Gwyn. Bressie brought him tea, but it was friendly. Niall can’t help how into him he is, even though he knows next to nothing about him and met him  _ yesterday _ , but there’s tension, he feels it. He feels drawn to him, butterflies in the pit of his stomach that pick up again as he waits for Bressie to respond. 

“Dinner, huh?” Bressie says, mouth curling up into a pleased smile. “Tonight? Seven?” 

“Yes, perfect,” Niall breathes, suddenly out of breath because he’s flabbergasted Bressie had agreed.

“I’ll text you.” 

And then Bressie is gone again, and Niall is left staring at the door. 

Harry cackles from the reception desk. 

 

\---

 

The closest pet shop is in Cork, a half hour’s drive away. Bressie carefully places Gwyn’s box in the passenger seat of his car and buckles the seat belt around it so it doesn’t slide. Gwyn spends the first five minutes of the drive unhappy, meowing pitifully and trying to climb the sides of the box and escape. 

“Shh,” Bressie soothes and reaches into the box to comfort her. He does so blindly, eyes on the road as he takes a turn. 

Gwyn cuddles up to his hand and quiets. 

If Bressie goes a little mad in the pet shop, so sue him. He’s already learned he’s got little to no self restraint when it comes to Gwyn, and buying things for her is no different. 

When they exit the shop an hour after arriving, Gwyn has kibble, food and water bowls, a litter pan, a cushy bed, a collar she still has to grow into, a leash, and more toys than Bressie can fit in both his hands. Gwyn herself is napping in her brand new, proper carrier on a fuzzy blanket and wrapped around a stuffed bunny toy that’s as big as she is. 

Bressie has no regrets, but plans to look up cat trees online when he gets home. He’d spent ten minutes standing in front of the selection at the store, doing the maths in his head to figure out if he could fit one in the back of his Golf. The answer was no, but Gwyn still needed one, even if she was still too small to use it. 

Bressie keeps a house on the outskirts of the village, a small stone cottage with ivy climbing the sides. He spends half his life at the station but needed the space anyway and it’s only a few minutes from work if he gets called in. He hopes he doesn’t get called in tonight. He’s told Eoghan to only call him if one of his men is injured or dead because it’s one of his two nights off this week and he  _ needs it _ . Eoghan’d heckled him about big plans with the vet with a knowing look and Bressie’d flipped him off. 

Now though, Bressie sits in the middle of the lounge floor surrounded by cat toys. He’s gotten her box set in the bathroom and her food and water bowls in the kitchen, and now she’s going after a catnip mouse by his feet. 

With her content, Bressie has the opportunity to pick up his mobile to finally text Niall about dinner. There are only so many restaurants in the village and he’s not particularly fond of any of them. The local pub has the best food but it’s not the best place for a date - if this even  _ was _ a date. 

Bressie frowns at his mobile. 

Probably not. Niall was probably being nice. 

Probably. 

If this  _ isn’t _ a date, it’s perfectly fine for a guy to have another guy round his house and make him dinner as a thank you for saving a kitten, right? 

Right. 

_ Not keen on any of the restaurants in town. Want to come round to mine? I promise it’ll be good! _

Bressie sends the text before he can dwell on it, then sets his phone aside and picks up a crinkle ball to taunt Gwyn with. 

She scampers after it when he rolls it towards her, tiny body trying to pounce on it but not doing a very good job. Most of the toys are still a little big for her but she seems to like them nonetheless. 

Bressie is teasing her with a mouse when his mobile dings and he picks it up with his free hand, the other keeping up the playing. 

_ sure!  _ Niall has texted back.  _ Can I bring anythin? _

_ This is a thank you dinner. Just bring yourself! _

Bressie hauls himself up and slides his mobile into the back pocket of his jeans. Looks like he’s got to go to the market. 

 

\---

 

When seven rolls around, Bressie is standing at the hob stirring the risotto. He’s been checking his watch every two minutes and whilst he tells himself he’s timing the cooking, but he’s really checking to see when Niall would be here. 

He turns the flame off and shifts the pot to another burner when there’s a knock on the door. He quickly sheds the mitt on his hand and heads for the lounge, scooping up Gwyn along the way. She squeaks in disgruntlement at being taken from her toy, but when he plops her on his shoulder she lays down and latches on, purring in contentment. 

Bressie takes a deep breath and scratches Gwyn’s ears before opening the door. 

Niall stands on the doorstep, bottom lip between his teeth and a bottle of wine in his hands. He’s dressed more casually than he’d been at work, in skinny jeans that cling to his legs and a maroon henley and Bressie has to tell his dick to calm the fuck down at the sight of him. 

All the blood from his brain rushes south and he dumbly says, “Oh god, hi.” 

Niall smiles sheepishly and rubs at the back of his neck. 

“Hi?” 

“Sorry, come in.”

Bressie stands back and opens the door wider for Niall to pass through. 

“I thought I told you not to bring anything,” he says after a moment in which he gathers his wits again. 

“A gentleman always bring wine when someone offers to cook for him,” Niall informs him and shakes the bottle in demonstration. 

Gwyn meows at him and Niall’s eyes light up when he notices her on Bressie’s shoulder. 

“Hi, miss,” he coos and reaches out to let her inspect his fingers. “Don’t you look cute up there.” He looks to Bressie then. “How’s she done today?” 

“Good,” Bressie responds and takes the bottle of wine to take to the kitchen. “Still a little raspy when she gets too worked up playing but otherwise she’s been full of herself.” 

Niall follows and Gwyn turns on Bressie’s shoulder to watch the other man. Bressie gently lifts her and holds her out to Niall. 

“Can you hold her so I can pull the fish out?” 

Niall nods and takes her in his arms, laughing when she tries to climb the sleeve of his shirt. 

“She’s a feisty one isn’t she?”

“Oh you haven’t even seen half of it.” 

Bressie slides the pan onto the hob and closes the oven, turning it off with his other hand. 

Niall inhales deeply. 

“Smells amazing. What is it?” 

“Salmon and asparagus with lemon and risotto,” Bressie says and busies himself with pulling out plates and cutlery. 

“Can I do anything to help?” Niall asks. 

“Get the wine open?” 

Niall nods and transfers Gwyn to his own shoulder. Bressie hands him a corkscrew and Gwyn watches patiently as Niall uncorks the bottle of white. 

“She’s gonna be a menace when she’s older if she keeps riding around on people,” Niall comments and pours the wine. “Good thing you’ve broad shoulders.” 

Bressie grins and flexes his arm and shoulder muscles. 

“Perks of the job.” 

Amidst his staring Niall doesn’t notice he’s overpoured one of the wine glasses until Bressie grabs his wrist to tilt the bottle upright. 

“Whoa there! I’d think you were trying to get me drunk and take advantage of me,” Bressie jokes. He grabs for a tea towel and quickly mops up the spilled wine whilst Niall stands awkwardly, wringing his hands. 

“I wouldn't want to take advantage,” he says lamely. 

Bressie swallows hard and tosses the towel aside to begin unwrapping the parchment paper around the fish and vegetables. 

“You wouldn’t be,” he admits and give Niall a tentative smile. 

Niall feels the flush start in his neck and creep up to his face but he grins up at Bressie all the same. 

“Yeah?” 

Bressie hands him a plate laden with food and kisses his cheek in a moment of bravery. . 

“Yeah.”

Gwyn meows. 


End file.
